


the regular miracles

by synchronicities



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 04:21:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18066485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synchronicities/pseuds/synchronicities
Summary: The Baudelaires and Quagmires spend their afternoons studying at the library/coffee shop on Runge Drive. Olivia doesn't mind at all.





	the regular miracles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bio_at](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bio_at/gifts).



> this is...nothing really, the result of our headcanon jamming and continued need for Soft Fics and Coffee Shop AUs hehe

The bell to 641 Runge Drive rings at 3:32 pm, and Olivia looks up from the library counter from force of habit. Today it’s Klaus and Isadora who pile into the building, book bags slung over their shoulders, arms filled with laptops and binders full of paper. She checks the date – it’s Thursday, they probably came straight from their shared world literature class at the university. Klaus turns in her direction and shoots her a small smile. He nudges Isadora’s ankle with his foot and cocks his head towards her; Isadora blinks and turns to grin and wave at Olivia, her cheeks flushed from the day’s cold spell. Olivia smiles back at them – it’s impossible not to, not when they’re as polite and well-behaved and _good_ as they are.

Klaus takes Isadora’s laptop and deposits their things at their usual table by the window as Isadora heads to the coffeeshop counter to order. From behind it, Kit smiles at her before turning to make their usual order – a bitter tea that Olivia has never been partial to, but which the Snickets, Baudelaires, and Quagmires seem to consume like water.

“Good afternoon, Klaus,” Olivia greets, dipping her head at the boy. “I trust your and Isadora’s literature class was productive?”

“It was fascinating,” Klaus says. “We’re just starting on the literature of the African diaspora.”

“Lovely,” says Olivia, because it’s the truth. “Achebe and Soyinka to start, perhaps?”

Klaus brightens. “To start, yes, actually.” He hands her the reading list. “As well as any introductory texts to African religions if you have any; it would go a long way towards–”

“–Contextualizing the works,” they say at the same time, and Olivia can’t help but beam at him. Klaus is privately her favorite of the Baudelaires, because as much as she loves Violet’s earnest ingenuity and Sunny’s cheerful bluntness, Klaus is the librarian of the children and shares Olivia’s wide-eyed appreciation for research in all its forms. She glances at the list, keys in a few of the titles. “Some of these are in the reserve section. I’ll see what I can do,” she says, before disappearing to the back.

By the time Olivia emerges from the library stockroom carrying the books Klaus had needed and then some, Violet and Quigley have joined their siblings at the large table, each with their own study materials and endless bundles of paper, and Jacques has replaced his sister behind the bar. Isadora stands to get their books, greeting her with a cheerful “Hello, Olivia!”

“It’s good to see you as usual, Isadora,” Olivia says. She peers at the table. “Is Duncan picking up Sunny?”

“That’s right,” Isadora replies. She’s always brighter after having some of that tea. “Sunny’s elementary school is having an afterschool cooking class which she wanted to attend, and Duncan is doing an interview in the area, so he said he would bring her over afterwards.”

“That was nice of him,” Olivia says. “I’ve your books, here – let me know if you need anything else.” The girl takes them with a grateful smile, and Olivia turns to help the student behind her with her readings.

Duncan and Sunny arrive about half an hour later. Duncan’s carrying a tray with a blue ribbon on it in one arm and holding Sunny’s hand in the other. “I won a contest,” she tells Olivia, proud in that beaming elementary-schooler way. Her hair is darker now than when she was younger, and it falls to her shoulders in wispy waves. She’s shot up fast, too. Time really flies. “Potato au gratin.”

“I’m sure it’s delicious,” Olivia says.

“It is,” says Duncan. “I tried some.” He turns to Sunny. “Do you want to share some of it with Olivia, Jacques, and Lemony?”

“ _Oui,_ ” says Sunny. She’s been experimenting with foreign languages now, after that rather surprising phase where she mostly communicated in overwrought English, and it’s refreshing. Without another word, Sunny takes the tray from Duncan and brings it to the counter on the other side of the room. Olivia can see Jacques stumble over himself to be nice to her and take some of the potato; it’s endearing.

Duncan has seated himself next to Quigley when Sunny returns with only three-quarters left of the dish, and two teas for herself and Duncan. Olivia watches Violet move to make space for her sister. As Sunny sits on the large couch it’s like something sliding into place. Six piles of schoolwork, and the warm afternoon sunlight dappling across six polite smiles on six heads of brown hair, and Olivia thinks that it’s exactly how it should be.

* * *

The hours tick by. Olivia has never been partial to Thursdays; they’ve _far to go_ , as the rhyme goes. Jacques has swapped out the acoustic playlist with some of the 1920s jazz Kit likes a lot, and Ernest comes by to drop off the last pastries of the day. The library slowly starts to empty and the smell of coffee from the counter strengthens as Jacques and Lemony brew their last batch of the day.

Today, Dewey emerges from the basement to occupy the other desk. He’s been doing that more often lately, especially when Kit’s at the counter, but today he’s drawn Violet into a conversation – she and Quigley, it seems, have temporarily foregone their studying to discuss what it would take for a self-sustaining vehicle to traverse around the world. She believes it can be engineered; he and his maps are apparently more skeptical. Violet is careful not to refer to him by name. Olivia wonders whether she thinks Frank or Ernest is sitting at the desk.

“What do you think, Olivia?” Quigley asks, breaking her out of her temporary stupor. He’s got a coffee in one hand – the only one of the six who regularly orders it, which Lemony is pleased about – that she squints at. Behind him, Dewey, apparently now invested in this debate, wanders into the back to find a couple of sources. Who knows when he’ll come up for air next, really.

“Is that the vanilla flavored decaf?” she asks him instead of replying.

Quigley shrugs noncommittally. Violet comes over. “Oh, c’mon, don’t bother Olivia too,” she chides teasingly. “We have to get back to studying; I’ve an exam.”

“Tough week?” Olivia asks.

“Just the one test,” Violet says, tucking a strand of her hair back behind her ear. “My professor specifically mentioned there’d be a lot of very fine details to look out for.”

“Mechanical engineering, am I right?” Jacques has come over, his interest apparently piqued by the conversation. Lemony’s replaced him at the coffeeshop’s counter; he’s skimming through a pocketbook and looking rather bored. “How are you, Baudelaires and Quagmires?”

Violet and Quigley grin at him, and Quigley launches into a story about his climate science professor. It’s almost like it isn’t routine at this point; the children are here more often than not, since everyone involved agrees that it’s on the whole better than sending them back to their respective empty mansions. They’re safer here, together, where Jacques and the others can keep eyes on them. Olivia doesn’t mind, of course, and she knows “Uncle Jacques” looks forward to their visits. He loves the kids almost as much as he loves their parents; she knows he sees Bertrand in Klaus’s awkward smiles, Beatrice in Violet’s searching gaze, Mary in the way Duncan tucks pencils behind his ear, Percy in how Isadora taps her foot on the floor. Olivia sees it all, too. They’ll be ready soon, but until then, Olivia and Jacques will let them have the cozy seats by the window, their quiet laughter, and all the tea they want for as long as they can.

* * *

Today it’s Percival who picks up the children. He pulls into the small parking lot up front in the beat-up old van that he claims is Mary’s, but Olivia which knows he keeps because he likes driving the kids around. He opens the door with a cheery smile.  The triplets greet him with a chorus of “Dad!” immediately, Violet and Klaus pitch in their own _Hi, Mr. Quagmire_!, and Sunny just grins at him toothily.

“Pack up, now,” he tells the table. “Baudelaires, looks like your parents will be home late again today, I hope you don’t mind having dinner with us? I could use Sunny’s help with the lasagna.”

Klaus, Violet, and Sunny exchange a look – it’s brief, but Olivia catches it. It’s one she knows well – the simmering suspicion that something is being hidden from them. She had worn it on her own face often enough after a few months of working at the library, before all the explanations and training, after she started catching Frank sneaking Kit covert looks when Ernest wasn’t looking and noticing Jacques slipping away at random times, after she’d started recognizing the parade of familiar faces that would go in and out the back doors, and after Lemony had vanished off the face of the earth for three weeks and neither his siblings nor the Denouements ever mentioned anything about it to Olivia’s face.

“We’d love to, Mr. Quagmire,” Violet says politely. Beside her, Quigley nudges her with his elbow, and she ducks her head to hide a smile. Klaus rolls his eyes.

“I’ll help with the pasta,” Sunny adds. “And…potato.”

“Sunny made some delicious potato au gratin earlier, and would love to share it,” Klaus adds patiently, pushing his glasses up his nose.

Percival smiles again. “Lovely. Pack up, kids.” He turns and meets Olivia’s eye, however briefly, and sends her a covert wink. She smiles back, nods.

“Percy,” Jacques says from the counter as the Quagmires and Baudelaires begin to pack up their things, the mess of papers and binders and pencils on the table slowly disappearing into six neat bags. “You’re looking well. Which of our very flavorful drinks can I interest you in today?”

“Thank you, Jacques, you’re not looking so bad yourself.” Percival meanders over to the counter. “I’ll just have the house tea; you know how I like it.” Olivia watches Percival glance meaningfully around the building. It’s the last busy hour of the day, with lots of people coming to the coffeeshop in for a last-minute pick-me-up. And yet he says, “The world’s quiet here.”

Jacques glances at Olivia, then nods at him. “Indeed it is.”

**Author's Note:**

> The Dewey Decimal System number for coffee is 641.3733; caffeine was discovered by Friedlieb Ferdinand Runge, I named the Quagmire parents for OG Gothic Supercouple the Shelleys, and that’s really the best I got, I don’t have Mr Handler’s knack for extremely powerful throwaway literary references xoxoxo


End file.
